


4 times they nearly kissed, 1 time they nearly didn't

by My_floaty_coaty_boy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cafe Owner Dean, Epilogue, Four plus One, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jack Kline and Claire Novak are Siblings, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Needles, Single Parent Castiel, Small Towns, Trans Male Character, Twins, Witch Castiel, briefly but not graphic, no actual drug use, obvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_floaty_coaty_boy/pseuds/My_floaty_coaty_boy
Summary: Castiel Novak is new in town.Dean is a friendly neighbour.4+1+some extra stuff, to be updated.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, some notes:   
>  A: Points to anyone who can name both of the trashy shows and/or either of the films I drew directly from in order for this to exist. I have other fics I should be working on, like Dealin’, or Remains, or that Hogwarts au, instead i started a new one. Problem?  
>  B: A 4+1 thing! Because I cba to think of a real plot for this. Also, some additional scenes shoved in there because while I was writing I had ideas.

Everyone knew about the house with the blue, peeling door on Rose Hill; Damaged shingles, cracked white paint on the porch with a mouldy wicker porch seat. Wooden shutters on the dirty windows missing slats and infested with woodworm and the early January frost. The owner, an elderly woman who had lived in the town for all her eighty years and ran the flower shop on Mauve Lane. 

Dean had helped her move out last July, and bid her farewell as she began her journey around Europe. 

The house had stayed vacant, until today, apparently.

“Well, you know, I heard he’d bought the shop, too,” Pam said knowingly, to which Missouri replied,

“I have a good feeling about them, you know.”

“Did you hear he has kids? They’d better not cause any trouble,”

“Who’re you talkin’ about?” Dean asked, sliding their coffee mugs and pancakes down in front of them.

“Someone’s moving into Hetty’s house; he bought the _ Flowery _ , too.” Pam supplied. “He an’ his family ‘re movin’ in on Saturday. I heard he was a witch.”

“Huh. Maybe I’ll go over there and help ‘em out.” Dean pondered. He moved to the countertop and began wiping it down. The town lacked a resident witch, although it had a few psychics--Pam and Missouri to name a couple--and Benny, a vampire. A witch though, was new.  

Charlie, a nerdy kid who worked with them on weekends and during school holidays, snorted from her place behind the counter, “how neighbourly. You jus’ wanna scope the competition; you can’t have another cafe in this town, or people might learn what good muffins taste like.”

Dean hit her with Missouri and Pam’s menus. “Just ‘cause you don’t like blueberries doesn’t mean you can talk shit about my muffins, Red.”

Charlie pulled a face and rolled her eyes.

 

Saturday came quickly, and with it a red pickup truck, furniture and boxes strapped in the back. Dean parked his own car on the long gravel driveway to the house with the blue door, and watched for a moment as a blond boy in a tan jacket burst out of the front of the truck, followed by a blonde girl in a green fleece jacket. The two squabbled and pulled each other back playfully, leaving footprints and scuffs in the frost-covered grass in haste to be the first inside, only to reach the door and find it locked. They turned back to the truck in time to catch the keys thrown by an unseen person on the driver side. The boy caught them, only for the girl to snatch them and beat him inside. They were laughing the entire time.

The driver, a man with dark hair in a long tan coat, busied himself letting down the back panel of the cargo bed of the truck, shuffling a cardboard box into his grip.

The blond boy appeared at the front door, grinning widely. He took the box from the man and when he turned to go back inside Dean saw the box was labelled ‘Jack’.  

Dean got out of the car when the girl took a box from the cargo bed. She and the dark-haired man looked up at him, the girl looking away quickly to bring her box inside. 

“Hey,” he greeted, “I’m Dean, I own the Cafe on Scarlet street, I thought I’d come down to see if y’all needed any help settlin’ in.”

The man seemed surprised, but shifted the box in his hands--marked ‘kitchen’--to offer one in a handshake, which Dean took quickly so he could get back to cradling the box. “I’m Castiel. It’s very kind of you to offer.”

The boy appeared again, his eyes wide and inquisitive and the same bright blue as Castiel’s. “Dad, Claire zapped a box at me.”

Castiel sighed in an entirely put-upon way, “books, clothes, or kitchen stuff?” He gave Dean the box in his arms to look through the truck bed again.

“Clothes. I ducked.” 

Castiel gave him a translucent trash bag, full of what looked like pillows. “Use this, but if either of you break something, you’re sleeping in the truck and I’ll turn you into cats for a week!”

“Thanks dad!” The boy was already running back inside, brandishing the bag.

Dean snorted a laugh, “How old are they?”

“Sixteen, if you can believe it.,” Cas grinned, leading Dean inside once he’d picked up a box labelled ‘office’.

While they moved flat-packs of furniture into their proper rooms and began moving from room-to-room setting it up, they talked.

Castiel and the kids had come from Illinois. He’d bought the vacant shop first, saying it had been his dream to own a business: a shop dedicated to selling the magical cures he’d developed. He’d found the house and thought it would be a fun project for the three of them; a fixer-upper, but nothing too expert. 

Jack and Claire were twins: identical, but almost complete opposites until they decided to team up, which according to Castiel was a dangerous occurrence that happened mainly to get something from him. When Dean had asked after their mother, Castiel had gone quiet, but after Dean had apologised for kicking his own tonsils, Castiel laughed.

“No, no, she’s OK. We’re on good terms, it’s just...well, this is a small town, and I know how fast news travels, and I don’t know how... _ tolerant _ this community is.”

“Oh,” Dean grinned, “we’re fine. And yeah, if you tell Pam or Missouri something, the whole town’ll know it by the next day, but some of us can keep secrets. And Hell, as for tolerant, we have a weirdly high rating of...well,  _ weird _ around here. ‘M sure whatever it is, someone around here’s heard--or  _ done-- _ worse.”

Castiel eyed him for a moment, leaning against the desk they’d just finished. “...OK, well...their mother Amelia and I...got together young--very young--she had them when we were sixteen. But...when we went off to college, I...I realised I was gay. I told her, but instead of being angry, she...she told me was gay, too. Four years later, the kids are six years old and eat too much cake at their mother’s wedding to her new partner, Kelly, while I give the best man speech.”

Dean sat in stunned silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. “ _ Holy shit _ ! That’s some soap opera plot right there!”

Castiel nodded, grinning. “I’m aware. For what it’s worth, they’re a lovely couple, but they travel a lot for Kelly’s work, so I got the twins. We spend Christmases together and they write often.”

“Is Amelia a witch too?”

“Ah, no, both Amelia and Kelly are humans. Jack and Claire both are capable of magic, although they seem less interested in learning how to do more than annoy each other with it.”

Jack’s voice filtered through the house, and Castiel excused himself, leaving Dean to sort though boxes. It was less fun when he couldn’t point his finger and make the books float to their rightful spots. After a while Castiel came back for a moment to offer lunch and coffee, an offer Dean enthusiastically accepted. 

“ _ Da-ad!”  _ The shout came from the attic, the room Claire had claimed as her own, and heavy footsteps heralded her entrance to the office. Her brow furrowed in a confused expression similar to her father’s. “You’re not dad.”

Dean turned from where he’d been unloading boxes of books into a bookshelf. “No, but you must be Claire. Your dad’s in the kitchen.”

“Oh, God have mercy.  _ That _ is sentence that should strike fear in the heart of mortals.” She shuffled forward suddenly when Jack appeared and nudged her out of his way. “Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry. I smelt something from the kitchen and came for backup.”

“Yeah,” Claire huffed a laugh, then glanced back at Dean, “you said you owned the Cafe? Maybe  _ you _ can help dad get over the denial he harbours.”

Dean chuckled, but set down the books he held. “It can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

 

It  _ was _ that bad. 

Turns out, Castiel could barely make coffee, let alone  _ attempt _ something more filling. Apparently, this didn’t stop him from trying. 

The eggs he’d made--or more accurately  _ burned _ \--eventually ended up sitting in the sink, smoking sadly.

“Jesus, Cas, how have you survived this long? How have  _ they _ survived this long?!” Dean gestured with the scorched spatula at the kids, who rolled their eyes. If the witch blushed, no one mentioned it. 

“Take out, mostly, although Jack makes good food.”

Jack grinned at his sister’s compliment, but Castiel sighed. “I  _ try _ . I do everything according to recipes, but it just...never works.”

Dean would have continued to tease the witch if something in his voice hadn’t sounded so...tired. “How long’ve y’all been drivin’ today, guys? You must be beat. C’mon, let me show ya the best cafe in town.” He smiled and picked up his jacket from where it had appeared (literally; Castiel had zapped it away when they’d got inside,) on the hook by the door. 

“The drive was a little over eight hours, but with packing the last things and unpacking it all, we’ve been up since…” Castiel paused to glance at the clock he’d leant against the wall to hang up.

“--since  _ ass  _ o’clock. Your place serve dessert?” Claire snorted, grabbing her own coat and throwing Jack’s to him.

Castiel tutted at the curse, but joined them by the door. 

“You ready to try the best pie in the state, nay, the world?” Dean grinned.

  
  


And so, half an hour later, Castiel, Jack, and Claire had taken their seats at the table in the centre of the large front window, on which was painted the word ‘Winchester’s’ in yellow, AC/DC style font. 

There were few other people in the cafe; by the time they’d decided to eat something, it was almost dark out, but Dean introduced them to Benny, who was about ready to leave by the time they got in, and Jo, Dean’s little sister-in-spirit, who was working behind the counter. Dean handed them menus and told them to pick something. While Castiel was reluctant, Jack and Claire jumped at the chance, almost immediately announcing almost identical orders:

“Cheeseburger, extra onions!” Jack.

“Cheeseburger,  _ no _ onions!” Claire. 

“Milkshake!” Both, in unison. 

Dean chuckled. “What kind?”

“Chocolate!” Jack supplied, to which Clair added,

“Duh.” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Castiel raised an eyebrow expectantly, and the twins looked up at Dean, identical puppy-eyed pouts solidly in place.

“ _ Please _ ?” 

“Stop with the weird twin thing, an’ sure. Cas?” 

“Uh, I-I really shouldn’t…” Castiel trailed off at the looks on their faces, and sighed. “OK, I’ll have the same. Just...regular onions. Coffee, also, please.” 

“Four burgers, varying amounts of onions, two milkshakes, and two coffees, coming up.” He relayed the order to Jo, who began on the drinks, while he started on the food.

“So, news is you’re a witch. Can you do anything cool?”

Castiel met Jo’s eyes, “Magic isn’t supposed to be ‘cool’. It’s supposed to be helpful, to be good.”

“He’s too humble--”

“--you mean  _ boring _ \--” Claire supplied, but her smile was harmless,

“-- _ but _ , dad can do some really awesome things. He’s best with nature magic: making plants grow, small weather changes, animal communication, but he’s also really good at transmutation--turning stuff into other stuff. It--”

“ _ Thank you, Jack _ , but it’s rude to overshare with people you’ve just met; I’m sure Jo doesn’t want to know all that.” The words may have been a little harsh, but they were almost completely negated by the light blush on Castiel’s cheeks and the flick of his gaze in the direction of a certain cafe owner.

Jo slid two milkshakes and a coffee over to them, and left Dean’s on the counter as he reappeared with plates laden with the best burgers Castiel had ever seen. 

 

Dinner was wonderful, and Castiel made sure to inform Dean of this multiple times, as well as thanking him and insisting on paying, Dean’s scoffed argument that ‘you guys ‘re new in town, it’s on me’ going completely ignored. Dean walked them back to the house with the blue door, holding Castiel back on the porch as Jack bounded to the room he’d chosen: A wide, square room, with a large window looking out over the protruding kitchen and a garden that backed up onto a view of the sunset. Claire rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm, but followed him up to her attic room: longer, but with a walk-in closet and sloped ceiling.

Castiel looked down at Dean’s hand where it rested just above his elbow, then their eyes met.

“Dean?”

“Welcome to Lawrence, Cas.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a great help. I’m going down to check the shop out tomorrow, I...I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah, an’ if you need any help up here, you can gimme a call.” 

Castiel nodded softly, his gaze flicking ever-so-slightly south from Dean’s eyes for a moment. “I’d like that.”

“An’...If you wanna go have dinner again sometime, maybe not at the Cafe, somewhere nicer, then…”

“Yeah, I’ll ask the kids,” Castiel murmured, and Dean chuckled.

“I was actually thinking...maybe just us?”

“Oh... _ oh!  _ Dean, a-are you...asking me out? Like...a date?”

Dean let go of Castiel’s arm, stepping back with a laugh. “Yeah, I was, but if you’re not--”

“ _ No _ ! No, I am, I-I’d like that.”

They stilled again, whatever spell had gripped them before taking hold again. “...Good…” 

Castiel began to lean in, an action Dean copied. The air around them became still, the only sound their mingling breaths…

Until something in the house crashed loudly through their moment.

Castiel laughed, and rested his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “I should work out what that was.” 

“Uh--yeah, yeah, you’d better go. I-I’ll call you. Or you can call me.” Dean grinned, beginning to back towards his car, still in the driveway from the morning. 

Castiel waved and stayed in place until Dean was in the car. Then, he turned and all but jumped up the porch, hurtling inside and slamming the door.

Dean chuckled, and started the ignition.

  
  


~*~~**~~**~woah~look*a*time~skip*~*~*~*~*~~**~*~*~*~

 

Charlie’s laugh welcomed him into the Cafe, and he scowled at her. “Watchit, Red.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything!”

“I can hear you thinking.” He sat at the counter and poured himself a coffee, pointedly ignoring Ash as he slid plates of pancakes or eggs to the early morning patrons.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Chalire grinned, wiping down a recently-vacated table, “it’s just that...well, four dates, an’ you’re seein’ the kids off to school? Tell me Dean, how did you go from life-long bachelor to two teenage kids in four dates?”

“‘M jus’ helpin’ out, Char.”

“Uh-huh, what did Cas do to earn this help?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Dean looked at her, only to see her looking at his neck. His brow furrowed, and he turned to follow her path through the room to the kitchen behind the counter, 

“What?”

“Dean, sweetie, you’ve got a little something…” Ellen, a woman Dean had known his entire life and had worked for for three years though high school, gestured to her own neck, reminding Dean of the rather large, definitely noticeable, bright purple hickey just below his jaw. 

He hid in the kitchen for the rest of the day, throwing dish towels at Charlie whenever she walked by.

“Y’know, Dean, we’re just teasing. We really do like Cas.”

“Jeez, Char, it’s been  _ four dates _ \--”

“And you’re both already so smitten. We’re happy for you.”

Dean felt himself smile softly. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”


	2. 2

Dean and Castiel had gone out a few times since their first meeting: nothing big, just dinner, a movie. The twins had started school, they’d been working on the house. It was going well.

As was the shop.

It hadn’t opened yet, but Castiel and the twins (and, occasionally, Dean,) had worked hard painting and stocking and decorating so that they were due to open officially by the end of the week. 

Castiel was ecstatic about it, of course. He’d told Dean he’d always wanted to own a small business, and now it was happening, he couldn’t be prouder. And neither could the kids: They may’ve been bratty teenagers (as Dean put it) and made gagging noises when he and Castiel were closer than six inches apart from each other, but it was clear how much they cared.

Everything seemed to be going OK. 

Which is why Dean was surprised to answer the Winchester’s Cafe phone to a very stressed Castiel.

“ _ Dean? Dean, I need a favour, oh, God, and I feel awful calling you for this but I can’t get away right now ‘cause I started brewing a new stock of something but you’re the only person I know well enough to ask and I--” _

_ “ _ \--Woah, woah, Cas, calm down, breathe,” Dean trapped the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, giving Charlie his order book and gesturing for her to take over, “what’s happening, what do you need?”

Castiel’s voice was tinny over the old speaker of the phone, but his words were clear. “Something happened at the twins’ school. I just got called to pick them up, but I can’t get away, I’m so sorry to do this to you, I know you’re working--Y’know what, it’s OK, I-I’ll just get someone else, it’s--”

“I’ll go get them, Charlie and Jo can take over, plus Ash is here too. Lawrence High?” 

“Uh...yes, yeah. Dean, you don’t have to--”

“Nope, no, I’m going now, I’m already in the car.” He wasn’t, but after a brief explanation to Jo, she just rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. He said goodbye to Cas and within five minutes, he was outside the old, red-brick high school, the same one he’d spent four years of his life in. 

He slammed the car door, sending a brief, telepathic apology his Baby, and jogged up the grey concrete steps to the reception. 

It hadn’t changed; even the carpet, a sad, dull blue, was the same. He glanced, mainly out of habit, in the direction of Mr Singer’s office. On the chair outside sat Claire, holding an ice pack to her hand, in a spitting image of Dean maybe fourteen years ago.

“Claire.”

“Dean.”

“Where’s Jack?” 

She sighed, pointing with her thumb on the uninjured hand towards the closed door of the office. 

Dean sat heavily on the only-slightly padded chair opposite her and sighed. “You gonna tell me what happened?” 

Claire shrugged, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure whoever it was just  _ walked into _ your fist.”

“He deserved it. A comment that dumb deserves a hit a lot harder than that.”

“What comment?” 

She didn’t answer, because the door to the office swung open, revealing a significantly down-trodden Jack, and Bobby Singer: a little older, a little greyer, but just as gruff. “Listen, boy, just...be careful. We’ll do what we can, but just don’t get into any more fights, huh? Either of you?” 

Claire hummed in acknowledgement, and Jack nodded wholeheartedly, gaze downcast.

Bobby looked at Dean, and seemed to doubletake in his chair. “I haven’t gone back in time, right? You’re stayin’ outta trouble? I don’t gotta tell you not to punch people again?”

Dean grinned, standing. “Quit your grousin’, ol’ man. ‘M jus’ here to collect some troublemakers.”

“Take ‘em.” Bobby waved dismissively and maneuvered his chair back into his office. 

“Nice talkin’ to ya!” Dean called after him, only to be met with probably-good-natured grumbles. “So, either’a you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?” He began to lead them to the car.

Jack nodded. “Someone yelled at me. Claire punched him. He got a nosebleed.”

“Why are you getting sent home, too, then?”

“...I may’ve cast a spell on him.”

“To do what?”

“...he’s a rabbit until dad can turn him back. I haven’t learned how to yet.”

Dean snorted, letting them squabble over who wanted to sit in the front. Claire won. “Right. I’m sure Cas’ll be over the moon to hear about that.”

“He’ll probably do something weird to ground us, again.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s brow furrowed as he glanced between them and the road.

Jack spoke first. “Last time we got grounded, dad made everything we ate or drank taste like pineapple for  _ three weeks _ . We hate pineapple.”

“The time before that, we were mice for a week.” 

“Shit, really?”

Claire shrugged. “We deserved it. Maybe this time the punishment’ll be that we just have to eat his food for a bit.” 

“Well, we’ll let Cas decide that,” Dean huffed, parking up outside the freshly painted black-and-white sign of  _ The Free Will Apothecary _ . 

When they entered, the bell above the door jingled, and Castiel appeared at a door behind the register. “Come back here please, I’m casting, I need to concentrate.”  

The three of them followed him, and waited in silence as he moved around a large glass bowl, adding leaves and things from small containers as the contents smoked and seemed to shift like an animal. 

Dean opened his mouth, probably to say he was going, but Castiel took the bowl and shoved it in a microwave, slamming the door and pointing at it. It hummed and the light came on, the timer displaying five minutes. Blue sparks danced inside, but Castiel ignored them as he spun on the twins. 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you two. Two weeks! Not even two whole weeks and you get sent home! For  _ fighting _ ! You know how I feel about violence!” 

“Dad, it wasn’t--”

“I’m not done! Not  _ only _ violence, but you cast a spell on a mortal! One you don’t know how to reverse! That’s hugely irresponsible!  _ Not to mention _ the fact that I had to call Dean to get you, and he was working! What if he couldn’t leave the Cafe? Dean, I’m so sorry, thank you so much, I--”

“--It’s no problem, Cas, really,” Dean waved him off, and Castiel looked at Jack and Claire.

“Well? What do you have to say?”

“Thank you, Dean, we’re very sorry you had to come get us.”

“I said it’s OK, guys, just don’t get in trouble again. And the twin thing is weird.”

Claire chuckled, but stifled her amusement with a warning look from Castiel. “Dad, I get we made a mistake, but it just caught us off guard. If you’d heard what the guy was saying, you’d’ve done the same thing.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Claire, just...next time, no violence, and you cast a spell you know how to fix, please. Clean the upstairs and we’ll call it even. No magic!”

Jack smiled, still a little down, and the twins let themselves up the stairs to clean the stockroom up the stairs.

“Jack said you’d have to reverse the spell,” Dean began, and Castiel nodded. 

“A simple incantation, uh... _ bad things were done, let’s not make it a habit: turn the boy back from a rabbit!”  _ Castiel waved his pointer finger while he spoke, aiming it upward to emphasize his last word. The aire shifted, and, apparently satisfied, the witch nodded.

“What, that’s it?” Dean grinned.

“Yeah. Incantations are my favourite form of magic; very poetic.” 

The human laughed, and Castiel turned back to the microwave just in time for it to turn off, beeping to announce a job well done. When he got the bowl, it was full of a blue, cream-like paste, which Castiel began to spoon into small black and white containers with the shops name printed on the lid and sides. “What’s the difference between an incantation and a regular spell? Like, when should you use one over the other?”

“Incantations are used to reverse another witch’s minor spell, or for occasions when consequences have to be considered. If you want to make the weather cold, you could use a spell, but then you would need a reverse spell to make it warm again. Incantations are more specific in terms of area, or time frame, or persons affected. It’s another reason I prefer them: no sneaky side effects.” 

Dean nodded sagely and began to screw the lids on filled containers, an action that surprised Castiel.

“Don’t you have a cafe to get back to?”

Dean shrugged. “They can deal without me for a bit. I wanna learn more about your magic.”

Castiel smiled softly, “Really?” 

“Course. It’s you, and I think it’s awesome.” 

If they shuffled closer while they worked and Castiel explained some simple (very simple, Dean suspected,) aspects of his magic, they didn’t realise until they bumped shoulders. Castiel looked up at Dean, cutting off his explanation of the salve they’d been sealing that had somehow turned into a one man debate about the benefit of one herb over another, and smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just...I rambled and you didn’t stop me.”

He chuckled, “it was an interesting ramble.”

The witch shook his head, “no it wasn’t. You’re just too polite to tell me to stop.”

“Oh yeah?” Castiel nodded at Dean’s question, “I dunno; If i’d wanted you to stop, I could think of better ways to make you.”

“You could, could you? Like what?” Castiel’s smile was small and mischievous, a mirror of Dean’s.

Dean leant in closer, so that there was barely any space between them, “Like this.”

He didn’t get a chance to move closer, because suddenly Castiel jerked away, sneezing into his hand.

“Dude, that’s gross!” 

“I’m so sorry, it’s...Ja _ -ack _ !  _ Did you cast something?!”  _ Castiel yelled up the stairs, waiting a moment before running up, Dean close behind.

The twins looked guilty, it was obvious: downcast gazes, nervous smiles, clasped hands, hunched shoulders. 

“What did you do?” Dean asked, before Castiel could.

“A spell to move all the dust.” Jack mumbled, and Castiel barked a short, sharp laugh.

“To downstairs?! I thought I told you not to use magic?!”  

“Sorry, dad. There was a spider, and we panicked.”

“ _ You’re  _ scared of spiders?” Dean looked at Claire disbelievingly, and her eyes flashed in anger,

“If you tell anyone, I’ll turn you into one.”

“Uh, no, you won’t! I can see now I can’t trust you not to abuse your magic, even when I ask, so now, you’ll be human for a week!  _ These twins can’t cast, it’s really quite tragic, that now for a week, I forbid their magic!”  _ Castiel pointed at the kids, and they wined in protest.

“ _ Dad!” _

_ “ _ Now, you clean this room and move the stock from downstairs up here,  _ please  _ make it organised?”

Claire and Jack groaned, and Dean chuckled.

If he spent the rest of the day trying to come up with incantations he’d use to solve his little annoyances, who was to know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment, tell me stuff! yall guessed those movies/shows yet?


	3. 3

“Hey, Cas, why have the kids just started learning magic?” Dean added some spice to the sauce on the hob and spun to face his boyfriend ( _ hell yeah, they’d gone there,)  _ who had planted himself on the kitchen table. 

It was April, four months after the Novak clan had firmly planted themselves into Lawrence. And while some residents had been wary of the newcomers, especially the scary teenage girl with kohl-smeared eyes and heavy boots, they’d been readily accepting of the polite if somewhat socially-clueless and sarcastic man that was willing to give them magical assistance in whatever way he could.

“I wanted them to learn to appreciate a non-magic lifestyle, not take magic for granted. Also, while Claire is... _ amazing _ , in so many ways, she was slow to develop any kind of magic. Jack has always had a natural proclivity towards it, but Claire...She didn’t cast her first spell until last year, and even then, it was a passion spell--no thought, no measure, just...anger. I began to teach them properly after that.”

Dean nodded his understanding, and the oven beeped, cutting off any other questions he could have asked. “You can plate up, right?”

Castiel nodded, grinning proudly: while Dean’s attempted ‘Teach Castiel to Cook Literally Anything’ classes had been unsuccessful, Castiel had proved himself capable of putting food (cooked by someone else) on a plate. He was too proud of this achievement, but no one was going to tell him this.

“I’m gonna get the kids.” Dean smiled and began the trek up to the attic. 

Getting Claire down was easy enough: there was food to use as bait, after all. 

It was when he went down to Jack’s room that he saw a problem. 

He opened his mouth to greet the boy from the doorway, but the words turned sour and died in his throat. 

Jack was standing in front of the open window, shirt pulled up, needle piercing his pinched hip. He’d already pushed the plunger down. He pulled the needle out slowly and capped it, duping it in a bin under his bed. He covered the puncture with a blue plaster and pulled his shirt down.

“Uh...Jack?” 

The boy turned, ever-present smile in place, as if Dean hadn’t just seen what he’d seen. “Oh, hey, Dean. Is food ready?”

He ignored the question. “What was that? Where’d you get that? From someone at school? Jack, you shouldn’t...How long have you been…?”

Jack’s brow furrowed and his head tilted in the Novak expression of confusion. “What do you mean, Dean? I don’t understand…”

“The  _ needle _ , Jack, don’t act dumb, I just saw it. What the fuck, dude? What was it?”

After a moment of intense blue staring, Jack didn’t seem to be able to supply an answer, so Dean stepped forward, and spoke louder, “what  _ was _ it, Jack?”

The boy flinched at the louder tone, and stepped backwards minutely. “I don’t understand, Dean, you know what it was, I’ve been taking it for a year, Dad must’ve told you--”

“A  _ year _ ?! No, wait: Cas  _ knows _ about this?”

“Of course he does--”  

“Just ‘cause you have some weird magical immune system doesn’t mean you can shoot yourself up with  _ shit _ like that, Jack.”

“ _ Stop it!” _ Jack’s voice, usually so positive, was full of anger and fear, and it froze Dean in place. The boy’s breath was heavy, but instead of continuing to speak, he turned to the window and stepped out onto the roof of the kitchen. He sat, legs crossed, and Dean saw his shoulders rise and fall swiftly for a minute, before slowing down. As they did, he felt himself slowly regain his ability to move.

At first, it was like moving through water with a hundred layers of clothes. Slow, heavy. But as he walked, it became easier, until he was at the window. The air, while not as freezing as it had been in January, wasn’t warm, and Dean suppressed a shiver.

He sat on the sill, watching the kid settle his breathing.

“Jack, I just--”

“ _ I thought you knew. _ I thought...I thought you were OK with it. You and dad are so happy, I thought you didn’t care about it.”

“Of course I  _ care  _ about it, Jack, I want you to be safe, and this isn’t safe--”

“Yes, it is! Yeah, I forgot my dose this morning, but I haven’t had any of the negative effects of it, other than some headaches! That’s pretty good!”

“I--wait, ‘ _ dose’ _ ? Jeez, kid, it’s not  _ medicine _ \--”

“Yes it is; Testosterone is my medicine, it makes me feel better!”

Dean didn’t speak. After a few moments, Jack turned around to face him.

“Testosterone? That’s...what that was?” 

“...Yes, Dean. Of course.”

“Why...Sorry, what?” Dean swung his legs around on the sill to face Jack properly.

And there was the Novak ‘i-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on’ face. “It’s testosterone, for my transition. It evens out my body fat, deepens my voice a little...all that stuff.”

“T-Transition? Wait, you...You’re trans?”

Jack blinked owlishly. “...Yes, Dean, you know that.”

“No, I...No, sorry, I didn’t know that.”

Jack laughed once, sharply. “But...Claire and I are identical...we’d have to have been born the same sex.”

“I thought it was some weird witch-y thing!” 

“... _ Wow _ , Dean, I didn’t realise you thought witches were so weird--”

“You know that’s not what I meant. So, wait, you’re trans, and that was testosterone?”

“ _ Yes, Dean _ ,” Jack said, with endless patience, “I thought you knew already...I’m sorry you had to find out while I had a needle in me.”

Dean sighed, “Jack, I’m so sorry. I saw the needle, I thought--”

“I know. It’s OK.” Jack smiled reassuringly, and Dean felt his own smile rise.

“C’mon. Foods getting cold, and I don’t trust your dad with a microwave.” 

Jack got up from the roof and climbed inside, letting Dean lead the way.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna keep going out there, I’m gonna hafta put up a railing or something.”

“I’d like that, thank you.” 

Dean pat his back goodnaturedly as they entered the kitchen. 

Jack proceeded to tell his sister and his father their conversation, leaving Dean red-faced and eye-avoiding.  

After they’d eaten, Dean had insisted they get down to the reason he was over: 

Movie night.

Turns out, studying magic didn’t leave much time to watch the classics.

Castiel and Jack had never seen Star Wars. 

Claire had, but only because (as she put it,) she’d ‘had a life before they’d moved’. 

 

It was sometime during _ Emperor Strikes Back  _ that Castiel murmured, “why did you think Jack was a drug addict?”

Never let it be said that Castiel didn’t  _ understand _ subtlety--he just chose not to employ it.

“I’m sorry, it’s...It was stupid, but...when my brother--”

“--Sam? Or Adam?”

“Sam--we didn’t know about Adam yet, he was only a kid-- but when he was seventeen, he fell in with a pretty bad crowd. He got hooked on...too much bad shit. Fallin’ off too many wagons onto too many downward spirals, ‘til he almost went too far. I saw the needle, and suddenly I was back there, trying to keep my brother from fuckin’ up and choking on his own--” Dean cut off, measuring his breathing, “I...wasn’t gonna let that happen to Jack.”

“Dean, I didn’t...I’m sorry…”

“Nah, it’s OK, he’s OK. He snapped out of it and we made him go cold turkey, now he’s a fancy-ass lawyer in Cali.”

“...Thank you for showing such concern for Jack.”

“You kiddin’? That kid may be a bit--”

“-- _ watch it--” _

Dean huffed a sigh, his smile complimenting the slow shake of his head, “...He’s a nice kid. A good kid--they both are. I...I care about ‘em. And you.”

“...I care about you, too.”

Dean smiled softly and leant forward 

Castiel let his eyes droop closed...  

Claire fell off the couch with a loud yelp and a snatch at Jack’s leg, waking him up and dragging him to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoyoyo tell me things


	4. 4

Usually, Dean didn’t bother going to the funfair when it blew into town on two ten-wheeled trucks and three horsebox-ferrying caravans. Usually, he just watched the fireworks display from Winchester’s Cafe over the trees and bandstand in the centre of town and banned the townsfolk from bringing those whizzy neon light things inside. Usually, June brought with it a slew of heatwave and tourists, and little else.

This time however, he had a date.

And his date had kids.

One of which also had a date.

Claire and Kaia had become a thing just after the beginning of the Novaks’ second month in town. Initially, he’d been wary: Kaia had grown up in town, and after her parents had passed four years ago, it had become a sort of ‘It Takes A Village’ situation, the townspeople of Lawrence clubbling together to help keep the girl out of trouble and in her right mind. When you were a psychic, even if it was just dreamwalking, that last was important. 

Kaia was a troubled kid, but after seeing them together, Dean saw a new side of her: Kaia’s edges and Claire's seemed to fit together, like puzzle pieces cut from the same bit of card.

So, when Claire had mentioned going to the fair, and Jack had nodded enthusiastically, Castiel couldn’t say ‘no’. 

And when faced with three pairs of bright blue eyes, neither could Dean.

Castiel grinned at him as they strolled down the path past the hook-a-duck and the donkey ride. It was a warm night; most people had forgone jackets completely. Not Castiel, wh rarely left home without the long tan trench coat Dean had yet to burn. 

They’d stopped holding hands to eat the pink candyfloss Dean had bought them all before Jack had run off to meet his friends--a boy named Alfie and a girl named Alex, who had shown the twins around their first day of school and become fast friends with both of them. Claire had waved at her friends and her brother before her and Kaia had slipped away to play the shooting games and throw fizzy sweets at each other before meeting up whenever and wherever they’d told Castiel they’d agreed upon.

Speaking of shooting games, Castiel’s eyes lit up as he looked at a stall from which Zachariah, the head of Lawrence Citizen’s Committee (and general pain in Dean’s ass,) was declaring something loud and annoying about throwing a ball and knocking down tins. But he wasn’t what held the witch’s attention:

Above the tin tower, sitting in pride of place on a shelf attached to the back wall of the booth, was a giant, fluffy bee.

Dean was no stranger to Castiel’s love of all things apian: He could wax (ha; bee pun,) for hours about their importance to the ecosystem, and how all the products he sold were bee-friendly, using wax and honey from local hives. After a particularly convincing rant, and a well-timed pout in Dean’s direction, even the Cafe now ensured their food was one hundred percent bee-approved.

It was after one of these raves that Dean had asked Castiel to be his boyfriend. (Although if asked he would deny that that particular spur-of-the-moment question had been brought on by the passionate light in Castiel’s eyes and the awe-filled emotion in his voice. That was too sappy.) 

So, Dean steered them over to the stall, willing to endure Zachariah’s entire personality for a moment to (totally  _ not _ ) impress his boyfriend. He paid for two attempts, and measured the weight of the first of the baseballs Zachariah had placed in his hands. He glanced at Cas, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and drew back his arm.

He threw the ball.

It hit the centre bottom tin of the triangular tower.

None of the tins moved.

“Ah, c’mon, Zach, you saw that!” Dean grinned in disbelief, but the man just shook his head.

“I saw you miss, Dean.” 

He laughed once in contempt,  and looked back to Castiel, who’s fond expression had fallen into The Frown of Much Confusion.

“He didn’t miss.”

“I’m sure from your angle--”

“I saw what happened. He didn’t miss.”

“Are you saying my game is rigged? Calling me a liar?”

“...Dean, you have another attempt.”

“Cas, its--”

“Throw the ball, Dean.”

Dean spent a second longer trying to decipher the look Castiel was giving him, drew his arm back, and threw the ball in exactly the same way as before, if with a tad more force.

The ball flew through the air and just as it hit the cans, they reflected a light that most would discount as the flashing bulbs and enticing neon of the carnival.

But Dean had seen Castiel’s spells before.

The cans hit the back wall with force, leaving dustless circles ringed with a substance that looked suspiciously like long-dried glue. 

Zachariah spluttered, but Castiel grinned. “We’ll have the bee, please!”

“No, but--but that’s not...You cheated!”

Castiel’s sombre, shocked expression nearly made Dean laugh. Nearly. “What? How? It’s just throwing a ball, Zach, unless there’s any  _ reason  _ why Dean shouldn’t have been able to do it?”

“Y-You did something! I know what you are, you know, a-and it’s not right for you to--”

Castiel gasped and placed a hand on his own chest. “Are you calling me a liar, Zach? After everything I’ve done for you at the shop? Such mistrust! Such--!”

Zachariah shoved the stuffed bee into Castiel’s hand not currently performing a show of theatrical offense and told them they were driving away other customers, so they scampered away like kids towards the centre of the park, giggling like it was the last time they’d ever be able to. 

“Thank you for this; it was very chivalrous.”

“Says you; defending my honour like that.”

“I don’t know  _ what _ you mean…” Castiel smiled innocently and hugged the bee plush tighter to his chest. “He’s a little ugly, isn’t he?” He rolled the fabric of the bee’s somewhat-lopsidedly embroidered face between his fists, making the bobbly legs wiggle unevenly.

Dean gasped, “Don’t say that, Cas! Don’t you know how important they are? They can fly up to fifteen miles per hour, y’know, and their wings go two hundred beats per second.”

“...You remembered that?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve got a head for numbers.”

They walked for a moment in silence, long enough for Dean to assume the conversation had moved on, until Castiel bumped lightly into his shoulder. “Really, though, thank you for this. It means a lot.”

“It’s just a toy, Cas.”

The witch rolled his eyes, and Dean got the impression there was something he wasn’t understanding. “I  _ know _ , Dean, I mean that it means a lot to me that you listen to all the stuff I say, even when it’s not very interesting.”

“You kiddin’? You’re plenty interestin’. I love listenin’ to you talk about stuff you like. Hell, you could give a three hour lecture on  _ dust  _ an’ I’d listen.”

“...I love hearing about your interests, too. Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re both big saps. Don’t tell anyone; I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“As village grouch?” 

Dean bumped into Castiel a little more forcefully, grinning when the witch shoved him back.

Then, Dean saw where they were headed. It took Castiel a few moments before he realised he was no longer walking accompanied. “Dean?”

“Uh...let’s go check out the hook-a-duck, yeah? Or the bumper cars--I hear the fun house is good…”

“What…” Castiel followed Dean’s gaze towards the towering structure of the ferris wheel. “Dean, what’s wrong? Are you scared of heights or something?”

“Uh--no! No, not  _ scared _ , I just think that if we were meant to be in the air, we would have wings.”

“You’ve never seen a witch on Halloween, have you?”

“What?”

Castiel shook his head dismissively and grabbed Dean’s hand. “Come on. We’re going on the ferris wheel and it’s going to be fine. It shouldn’t be a problem, right? Seeing as you’re not scared?”

Dean made a strangled sound of protest, but allowed himself to be dragged towards the towering structure of death and despair.

 

This had been a mistake. 

He wasn’t even sure how it happened: One moment they were on the ground, then Dean must’ve blacked out or something because suddenly they were nearing the top of the wheel, their seat rocking in a way he was certain was unsafe. His hands gripped the bar holding them down and his eyes stayed glued on a rusty bolt on their carriage. The seat swung too much as the wheel turned towards the peak.

The carriage stopped moving with a resounding clunk.

“ _ What was that _ ?” Dean ground out, and he saw, far below them, the ride attendant, a guy Dean vaguely knew from around town named Victor, speak into a walkie-talkie and look up at the wheel, a worried expression on his face.

“Cas, we’re gonna die up here.”

“We’re not going to die, Dean, it’s going to be OK.”

“ _ No, Cas _ , I can’t...I can’t do this, I-I--” He slammed his eyes shut, willing the carriage to stop swinging--or maybe it was just his stomach.

“Dean?” The voice was quiet, and he became slowly aware of a soft hand on his back, rubbing in soothing circles. He tore his eyes to his right, and Castiel’s face came into focus. “Dean, are you OK? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would be this bad for you…”

Dean shook his head but didn’t dare take his eyes away from Castiel. He took a deep breath, letting himself calm minutely. “N-No, it’s OK. I-It’ll be over, soon. ‘M jus’ bein’ stupid.”

Castiel’s hand rested over Dean’s. “You’re OK, you’re not being silly, or stupid, it’s completely fine to be scared. I’m scared of some pretty un-scary things.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Dean allowed himself a small smile, willing to jump on any distraction. 

“Yes. I’m scared of dolls. I wouldn’t let the twins have them when they were children--not that they wanted them.”

“Hey, man, dolls’re creepy. Their weird eyes that follow ya ‘round everywhere.”

“Exactly!” Castiel laughed, but it only lasted a moment, giving way to a more serious and quiet tone, “..I’m also scared of open water. I never learned how to swim--I made sure the twins had lessons, but I just can’t face it...Jack’s scared of thunder--any loud noise has a tendency to make him flinch--Claire doesn’t like the dark, because she gets jumpy when she feels like she isn’t fully aware of her surroundings. We’re all scared of things that can’t hurt us, Dean. There’s no shame in that.”

“...Can you, like, use your mojo to make this thing go faster?”

Castiel hummed, and sat back, causing the carriage to swing and Dean to shuffle closer. “I don’t think so. I don’t know why it stopped, and to mess around...it might make it more unsafe. I can think of a good distraction, though…”

Dean met Castiel’s eyes, intrigued until he saw the crooked eyebrow and small smirk. Somewhat startled, he chuckled. “Wow, Cas, I didn’t take you as the type to take advantage of me in a time of vulnerability.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Winchester.”

Dean leant back and brought his hand up to the back of Castiel’s neck.

The ride juddered and leapt forward, causing the carriage to rock violently. In a flash, Dean’s hands were back on the bar. 

Castiel chuckled and placed a hand back over Dean’s.

When the ride stopped and the attendant let them off, Dean swore never to leave solid ground again.

Castiel laughed at him later, when he insisted on eating their hotdogs sitting on the floor. 

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“...Hey, Claire?”

“What?”

“What do witches do on Halloween? Your dad said there was something to do with flying?”

Claire snorted. “We jump of the roof of the tallest building in town we can get to. It’s the only witch-y tradition--except for solstices, of course--dad insists we do. It’s fun though, you should come next year.”

Dean shuddered, but he couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of staying around the Novaks that long.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall guessed my insp yet? XD


	5. +1

“C’mon, Cas, I already pretty much live here anyway--”

“No, Dean, you’d get sick of us within a week!” 

“You know I wouldn’t, Cas, why are you making this so  _ hard _ \--”

“I’m not, I simply know what would happen, and it wouldn’t work!”

“It  _ would _ !”

“Dean. I don’t--”

“Why don’t you want me here?”

“I do want you here--”

“Then why not?!”

Castiel sighed, sitting heavily on a chair at the kitchen table, cradling his head in one hand. “ _ Dean, please _ , drop it.”

“...Fine. I gotta go to the Cafe. See ya ‘round, Castiel.”

The door slammed. 

Castiel was left alone. 

 

Dean didn’t go back to the house with the blue door on Rose Hill. He didn’t see any of the Novaks, either, not even around town. 

“Honey, I went into the Apothecary today, your man doesn’t look too good.”

“He’s not ‘my man’, Missouri, we’re not together anymore.”

“Ah, that’d be why he didn’t look so good.” Pam supplied, and Dean shot her a look that did absolutely nothing to penetrate the dark glasses she wore. Or, indeed, her blindness.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t want me around then, I doubt it’ll help now.”

“You seemed so happy at the carnival--he wanted you around then.” 

Dean didn’t reply. Instead he just started scooping up empty plates and discarded menus and avoiding the looks Charlie and Missouri were giving him.

He knew they were talking about him--the whole town had what may or may not have happened between him and Castiel would have them both strung up on the rumor mill until the next time someone decided to flirt with the clerk at Garth’s Grocery. He felt people look his way before murmuring hushed speculation with just enough pity to make themselves feel like they weren’t spreading gossip.

It was driving him crazy.

He just wanted to forget he ever helped the dark-haired man and his two blond children move into Lawrence. 

And if he missed Castiel while he was closing up the Cafe and trekking the stairs to the matchbox above, then it was nobody’s business.

Dean didn’t go back to the house with the blue door on Rose Hill for three weeks. He didn’t see any of the Novaks for that time, either, not even around town. 

Until Friday night.

It was six thirty; he hadn’t even closed the Cafe up yet, and there were several people inside, on dates or avoiding their own kitchens or just hanging out in the slightly tense atmosphere the Winchester Cafe had accumulated recently. 

The phone rang. 

“Winchester Cafe.”

“ _Dean,_ _oh, thank fuck, we need your help--”_

“Claire? What’s wrong?”

“ _ Fuck, I’m at home, shit, Dean, it’s...It’s so bad, Jack--he tried to help, but we can’t get hold of dad, he went for a drive, and I...I’m so--”  _ Her voice cut off with a loud bang on the other side of the phone.

Dean slammed the phone back on the holder, grabbing his coat from the hook. “OK, OK, I gotta go-- Hey, you’re Jack’s friend, right?” 

The boy, Dean thought he was called Alfie, nodded, and fumbled to catch the key Dean threw at him. “When everyone’s done, turn off the lights and lock the door, leave the key under the mat or something, I have to go--”

The bell above the door rang too loudly when he slammed it behind him, and as he got in his car and felt the engine roar to life when he woke it he looked in the rearview to see a crowd filter out the Cafe doors before the lights switched off. 

He drove.

He barely stopped the car before hurtling out the door and up the stairs of the porch, shoving the blue door open and revealing--

Candles. 

And roses. 

And an impatient-looking Claire. 

“Hi. Sorry.”

“Claire, what--what’s happening? You sounded--”

“Stellar acting skills and Jack’s god timing pushing a stew pot down the stairs. We had to get you here somehow.” She all but wrestled his coat from him, not even having the good grace to look guilty. “Dad messed up. Let him apologise, please.”

Dean allowed himself to be pushed around the corner to the kitchen, where an appropriately apologetic-looking Castiel sat at the table, which was lit by a small cluster of candles--beeswax and pre-used, with the dried drippy wax that Dean had always associated with old, haunted libraries. 

Jack was leaning over the kitchen counter, and when he span around, Dean saw two large-ish plates in his hands, laden with perhaps the biggest burgers Dean had ever seen. He placed one in front of Castiel, and the other in front of the empty chair on the other side of the table, in front of Dean. He untied the string of the apron hung around him, letting it loose and balling it up before leaving it on the counter. 

“Dessert’s in the oven. The timer’ll go off--” Claire began to drag him out, still sputtering instructions. The front door closed gently, leaving them alone.

“Hello, Dean. Claire and Jack have informed me that I am, in fact, an idiot, and I’d very much like to say I agree.”

“What...Cas, you told me you didn’t want me around.”

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “No,  _ you _ said that I didn’t want you around. Please, sit. I’d like to explain.”

“Explain first, then I’ll sit.”

The witch sighed and hung his head for a moment before meeting Dean’s eyes. “I want you around, Dean. Of course I do--but I’m afraid that you don’t know what you’re getting into. Moving in...It would show the twins that this is a serious  _ thing _ . You’d be going from just a boyfriend to two  _ kids _ . And it’s harder than it looks--you’ve been here for the good, Dean, but between Jack’s transition, Claire’s... _ angst _ , and the whole ‘magic’ thing, it’s a lot more than it would be otherwise. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but Dean--The bad days can be... _ so bad _ , and I don’t want you to…”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “To...what?”

Castiel’s gaze dropped again. “To resent us. I don’t think I could handle it on my best day if you came to think I’d cheated you from...from having a family of your own.”

For a moment, there was no sound. Then, the scraping of chair legs on wooden floor. Dean sat, and Castiel looked up. “I couldn’t resent you, Cas. I get it--it’s a lot, and so far I’ve only seen parts. But Cas, man, these last months, since you moved in, have been some of the best of my  _ life _ . I’d take a lifetime in  _ Hell _ before I gave them up. A-and...I love you. I love all of you. I wanna get to a time when you guys  _ are _ my family.”

Castiel stared for some long seconds, then stood abruptly, coming around the table to pull Dean up into a searing kiss, hands on his neck and back pulling him closer. Dean melted into it almost immediately. Too soon, Castiel pulled back, leaning their foreheads together.

“I love you, too.”

“But, you have to promise you’re not gonna back out on us just because you think I want to.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Now, do you wanna eat?”

Castiel laughed, pulling away and slapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “It’s good to know your priorities are in order!”

They took their seats at the table again, and Dean shrugged, grinning. “Hey, I hear Jack’s the only one in this house that can cook!”

Castiel’s gaze softened. “Not anymore.”

Dean didn’t blush--the candles just made him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone guessed one of the movies right, I took the idea of jumping from the roof for halloween from Practical Magic, and I will be writing that scene in a bit. The same person said 'Charmed', which i have to admit i've never actually seen. The 'resident witch' thing is from Kiki's Delivery Service, the rhyming incantations is from Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and the whole 'small town' thing is, and don't shun me for this, I hate that I know enogh of it to call upon it, Gilmore Girls.  
> I was very sick when these Ideas combined.


	6. halloween!

When Dean arrived home at the house with the blue door on October 27th, the red pickup truck wasn’t the only car in the driveway. He parked the Impala next to the newcomer: a cherry pink ‘65 Sunbeam Tiger, with a decal on the hood of a simplistic tiger crouching amongst bamboo shoots.

“ _ Babe _ ? You home? What’s up with the monstrosity on the drive?” 

Someone cleared their throat, and Dean spun around from the coat hook to find Castiel standing behind a shorter man with light brown, long-ish hair and an offensively colourful shirt.

“Gabriel, meet Dean. Dean; Gabriel owns the, uh... _ monstrosity _ on the drive.”

“Ah, Dean-o, at last, a face to the infamous name--I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Dean, please don’t believe a word he says.” 

The challenge in Gabriel’s eyes softened minutely, for a second. “You mean a lot to my little brother, and the kids.”

“Believe nothing  _ else _ he says.” Castiel corrected himself, then left them, retreating into the main room.

Gabriel sauntered closer, sticking out his hand. Dean shook his head, “Nah, man, Cas warned me about that.”

The other man sighed, dropped his hand, and groaned. “That’s no fun!” 

And boy, had Castiel warned him about Gabe.

Gabriel Novak was one of Castiel’s expansive family, but one of the only ones who he;d remained in contact with after the twins were born. If one were to ask Gabriel why, he’d say he needed to raise an army to take over Hollywood somehow, and Michael’s kids all inherited the giant stick-up-the-proverbial. One look at him, and Dean saw the truth: the devotion Gabriel felt to his little brother was the same Dean felt for his. 

That being said, Gabriel was someone to be warned about: near-constant pranks, quips, and minor hexes plagued Dean from the moment he got home. Thankfully, Jack liked him, and would warn him when possible--Castiel and Claire, on the other hand, had other ideas: Clarie found it funnier to laugh at him.

Castiel hid his smiles and kissed Dean on the cheek after Gabe made his hair pink, stopping to murmur an incantation to change it back only when Dean bribed him, making them both late. 

 

The town was preparing for it’s annual Halloween celebration: orange paper pumpkins were strung up along every shopfront, Garth’s Grocery was advertising a BOGOF deal on sacks of trick-or-treat candy, and everywhere smelled of Pumpkin Spice. 

But in the Novak/Winchester household, Halloween was a much more serious event.

Claire had told Dean that at midnight on October 31st, every resident witch would jump off the tallest building in town, casting a pre-prepared protection spell on every resident, meant to last a year. He hadn’t thought she was being serious until he saw Castiel in the Cafe on the 29th, asking Ellen and Pam what the tallest building in town was.

“You’re seriously gonna  _ jump _ off the Town Hall?” Dean hissed once he’d brought Castiel a coffee, black, two sugars. 

“Yes, Dean. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“ _ ‘We’ _ ?” 

Castiel nodded and sipped his drink. “Yes. Gabe, Jack, Claire, and I. I know Gabriel isn’t really a resident witch, but he enjoys the tradition.” 

“...You’re not gonna be persuaded to keep your feet on solid ground, huh?” 

Castiel just smiled and leant forward to kiss him chastely, before brushing out of the Cafe.

“He didn’t even  _ pay _ .” Ash’s voice had a disbelieving uptick as he dried a clean plate. Dean shrugged it off.

  
  


The night of Halloween was a clear one, with a bright moon that Castiel had informed him was ‘ _ a waning gibbous, Dean’ _ and plenty of stars. Being city kids and having grown up with too much light pollution, Jack and Claire spent almost the entire night of the town’s celebration staring up at them, Jack pointing out constellations he had only ever really read about. Dean pointed to the north star and helped them find Orion while making sure they didn’t bump into anyone.

It seemed as though every resident was dressed in some form of costume, and Dean had to admit that without the demon horn headband Claire had shoved towards him before they’d left the house he might’ve felt out of place. 

There was a bonfire in the centre of the green; it wasn’t big, but there were people gathered around it, huddling close to ward off the cold, holding sticks of melty goop that used to be marshmallow as they chatted and watched their words form clouds that wafted upwards. 

Jack nudged Claire and the two whispered to each other before waving him over to the Town Hall, where a soup stall was set up in the foyer, from which Castiel and Gabriel served warm cups and warmer smiles to the residents of Lawrence. When Jack and Claire moved behind the red paper-covered tables, Castiel took off his apron and handed it to Zachariah, who had been ‘overseeing’ the process. 

“Is it time already?” Castiel asked the twins, despite knowing better than they did. Nevertheless, they nodded enthusiastically, and Castiel planted a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips before moving to a large black pot on top of another table on the other side of the room which was emitting a lazily-curling purple smoke. 

_ “In this town we feel accepted, for this whole year keep them protected,”  _ Castiel began softly, offering a hand to Claire, who stood next to him around the cauldron.

_ “We fall, we float, we cast, we care, we aim to keep this casting fair,”  _ Claire continued, grasping her father’s hand and taking her uncle’s as Gabriel murmured his line of the spell.

_ “We work together to help their health, in hope that they may gain their wealth.”  _ His other hand found Jack’s, and while he spoke, he offered his hand to Dean who, while surprised, took the gesture and closed the circle with Castiel. He knew, as a human, he wouldn’t have to finish the incantation, but he felt the power, the closeness, as it flowed through them.

Jack spoke,  _ “In family, luck, or material gain, keep their hearts free of disdain.” _

The witches murmured something in unison in a language Dean hadn’t studied, and the concoction began to shift in colour and bubble, as if boiling without fire. After a few moments, it stopped, and they let go of each other’s hands, picking up the pot together and pouring it into the container of leftover soup. 

“Tell everyone to drink that if they want to benefit from the spell.” Castiel instructed Dean, before following his family through a door leading to the upstairs and, probably, the roof.

Dean sighed after them, smiling despite himself, and shrugged to Zachariah. “Well, you head the man. C’mon.” They maneuvered the pot outside together, Zachariah taking the time to complain about how much he disliked this idea. 

The town ignored him, celebrating and toasting each other when they got their cupfuls of protection magic. 

Someone cheered and pointed up at the roof of Town Hall, where the four witches stood on the edge of the building, toes hanging over the roof, hands clasped together and held high in victory. 

Gabriel counted, nodding to first the twins, then Castiel, ensuring they were ready.

They swung their hands back and forth, the townspeople below counting along with their time.

They reached three, and Dean’s heart stopped.

They jumped, and fell at the speed of an autumn leaf, remaining upright and completely serene.

Claire waved to Kaia, who joined the cheers. 

Dean didn’t start breathing again until Castiel's feet hit the ground. He didn’t even remember running until Castiel found himself swept into his arms, both of them laughing as Dean spun them.

“ _ Dean _ !  _ Stop! Stop _ !” Castiel shrieked in joy. 

He did, lowering Castiel and kissing hims soundly. 

Best. Halloween. Ever. Until next year, that is. 

Then he’d do the same thing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyeee!!  
> Tell me what ya think, I think i'm gonna keep clearing out WIPS now before I start one of the 2 new ideas for fics I have. Which would you guys prefer to read first: High School AU, kinda-but-not-really secret relationship with many boyfriend-y squabbles, very fluffy, much cute; ooorrrr I have an idea for a little bit angsty-er, Cop!Dean kinda thing, which will probably be very fluffy, but still.


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